Awakening by Dubchick

Watched

Chapter 2

I lay back in the large red velvet occasional chair in the living room that stood just inside the doorway. The house in a rare silence, no one else was home. My eyes open, staring straight ahead, but not seeing anything of the space in front of me. My brow pulled together tightly, replaying the chain of events in slow motion in my head. Starting at the point of blackness, I could 'feel' it all so clearly. Confusion, fear, dread, every motion, every thought, but strangely also the exhilaration. This, coupled together with the tightening of my chest, restricting my breathing again, as it had earlier that day. His arm around my waste. My hand on his hand. His so smooth skin. The lightest touch, the warmth - the burning. Then its absence. I felt a loss. As if someone had died, or gone away never to return, almost how I'd felt that day when Gran was taken from me. It was silly I know, but I couldn't get away from it, couldn't shake it from my mind. It had been just the briefest of connections really, but its power compelled me to want more, even though the last of it seemed to be flaying my skin. It hurt, painful even. But the need outweighed the side affects. I didn't know him, didn't know where he'd come from, or where he'd gone, but all I could see was the eyes, smouldering, penetrating into the centre of me, like he could see my every though, every feeling, into my soul. They seemed to blaze like a fire behind the blue, the flames dancing, moving, licking up staring straight at me, holding me in their trance, but it wasn't necessary I could have gazed at them all day. The grief like state hit me from within, like a hand crushing my lungs. I couldn't breath, I couldn't move. I wanted to curl up and cry myself to sleep. I wanted to be left to end my days thinking of them, because I couldn't see away of finding them again.

The phone rang, startling me, dragging me out of my waking dream. It sent a bolt through my gripped body. I jumped up quickly to grab the phone, hanging onto the door frame for stability.

'Hello.' I said breathlessly.

'Hey Tilley, it's me.' Anna sounding urgent on the other end.

'Hi Anna.' I answered subdued, the pull of my day dream trying to beckon me back in. I wanted to follow.

'Are you alright? I was worried. You left so quickly. You really had me scared. What happened?'

'Calm down Anna, you'll have a heart attack or something.' I was more alert now; the urgency in her voice was contagious. 'I'm fine. I don't know what happened really. I've just been going over it in my head. One minute we were having lunch and it seemed the next I was stepping in front of an on coming vehicle!' I sniggered, trying to make it sound amusing. It didn't work.

'You scared the hell out of me.' She yelled, the urgency in her voice not depleting. 'I was just coming out of the diner, and I saw you in the middle of the road. Didn't you see the car? I know you were upset about Rachel, but what were you thinking. I know it was a shock...' She hesitated and her tone dipped, '…but to do that.'

My mind reeling, searching for her reasoning. 'Hang on a minute. What are you talking about? Rachel?'

'Yes, Rachel. She ruined your painting, remember?' Anna sounded more confused that I was. 'And by the way, well done for not spreading her nose all over her face. Stella self control!' Anna added a little smug.

It took a moment for the memory to hit me. 'My painting,' I put my hand out to the chairs arm as my knees jellified, and lowered myself onto the seat. I swallowed deeply. I'd forgotten. How could I forget that? I stumbled over my thoughts.

'Till, are you there?'

'Yeah, yeah sorry.' My painting, I mumbled to my self under my breath, shaking my head to clear the fog, the whole diner scene quickly flashing through my mind.

'Oh no, my painting. Oh no!' The desolation rushed at me like a raging storm.

The tears started to fall, and as I spoke again I was sobbing.

'Oh I can't believe it. How could I forget that? Uh!' I exhaled and lead back in the chair. 'All that time, all that work.' I shook my head.

'Do you want to go to the studio now? See the damage?' Anna's tone now sympathetic.

I shook my head again. 'No, that can wait until the morning, I feel drained. I need to sleep.' I pressed my jaw tight, 'but…' I paused.

'What?'

'You said…' I tailed off remembering her words – 'I know you were upset, but to do that.'

'What?' Anna sounded nervous.

'Do you think I ran into the road on purpose?' My voice unsure, I sat up in the chair afraid of Anna response.

'NO!' Anna almost shouted, then her voice dipped, sounding uneasy as she continued. 'Well it did cross my mind, but only briefly. You took off from the diner and didn't stop.' Her speech quickening as she tried to explain. 'I know you've been having a hard time since you moved here, and what with your Gran. I'm sorry. I was being stupid. I worry for you that's all. Please forget I said anything.' She sounded a little embarrassed too.

'Anna you don't have to worry about me, especially about doing something like that. I'm too much of a chicken to try something like that. Death by chocolate is more my style.' I tried to lighten the conversation again, laughing a little, but wanting to make sure that she knew I was sincere. I knew I wasn't the easiest person to get to know. I kept things to myself, I sometimes didn't respond it the most appropriate manner, and my trust issues had a lot to answer for, but I wasn't suicidal. In fact that had never, in my life ever crossed my mind, and especially now. Now that life seemed to be getting better, in a strange kind of way, the last thing I would be thinking about is ending it all over some stupid painting that I didn't really like anyway.

Anna laughed in return. Then there was a silence for an uncomfortable moment.

Anna spoke first with new vigour to her voice. 'Hey, who was the guy? He was incredible. He was so fast. He must have flung you both ten feet. You were so lucky.' She was gushing now.

Again, I shook my head, though she couldn't see, and frowned, creasing my brow.

'I don't know. I didn't even get a good look at his face properly. He was there one second and gone the next. Did you get a look at him?'

I could feel my pulse quicken, eager for her response, and happy with the change in the conversation.

'Not really, I did see him briefly, but he had his back to me most of the time. Cute from what I did see, maybe just a little older than us, may be early twenties.'

'I though you didn't get a good look.' I retorted with a sarcastic edge, a huge smile on my lips, my feet tapping unconsciously.

'I've got a good memory for faces, especially when there saving my best friends life.'

Best friend, that was nice. I smiled to myself.

'I haven't seen him around, maybe he's a new student at the college.' She continued.

'I hope I see him again, I'd like to thank him for being such as hero.' And that wasn't the only reason. I pictured his eyes again, closing my own, and inhaled deeply.

'So I'd better let you go then. Go and have a sleep. I'll pick you up in the morning - or my mum will! Bye Tills, sweet dreams.' Anna said in a resigned tone.

'Yeah, see you then. Bye.' I said opening my eyes to give her my full attention.

The phone went dead.

I got up and returned it to the base, and trudge off upstairs for a nap.

The sun was still intense coming through the open window in my messy room as I pushed open the door. I pulled my sleeve up to see the time, but of cause I'd forgotten to put it on my watch this morning. My bed side clock showed 2.32pm. It would be about two hours before anyone got home. Just enough time to nap before their presence made it impossible to think, let alone sleep. I lay on the bed, and closed my eyes.

A bang of a door woke me. It hadn't taken my any time at all to fall asleep. I'd not even had time to think about the days events before unconsciousness found me, I realised now. My lids reluctantly opened. The light in my room had faded, not dark, but not the bright glare of the day, and it was cooler now too, but my pool of sweat did not show any evidence of at. I sat up bundling my hair onto the top of my head, the cool air refreshing my tied clammy neck. There was a knock at the door, and it slide open slowly. Maggie's head peered around the corner.

'Hey', I said still tired, trying to focus, a yawn following swiftly.

'Catching up on your sleep?' Maggie said smiling, in a low voice.

'Yeah.'

'Feeling any better now? Sick feeling gone?' Maggie tilted her head.

'Yeah.' I repeated stifling another yawn.

'Dinners ready, you up to eating?'

My stomach groaned in response. I smiled. 'I'll be right there.'

I hurried off the bed, catching my alarm clock in the corner of my eye, 6.45pm. Wow I was tied. Then I continued into the bath room to wash my face. The cool cream tiles felt good beneath my sticky feet, though at first it felt too cold to stand, until the warm mingled with the cold, making a good combination where I stood.

I turned on the tap, my hand supporting my body as I leaned into the round glass basin, a modern addition of Maggie's to the tied old suit that had probably been here since the house was built.

Scooping up the water in my cupped hands I threw it over the hot clammy skin of my face. The water cooled instantly, running down my face and dripping off the end of my chin, and it did the job of waking me too.

As the water flowed from the tap I leaned my head down again for another handful of refreshing water to wash away the still radiating heat from my face and the sleep from my eyes.

Opening my water soaked eyes, something flashed in the reflection of the mirror in front of me, something that was behind me. I gasped, a little shocked, and turned to the small window that had been reflected in the mirror. I peered out through the obscured glass that was supposed to give privacy, but all it did now was obstruct my view. I opened the top latch wider and on tip toes peered outside. My heart pounded uneasily in my chest, but there was nothing there.

I put it down to my groggy eyes and a trick of the light as it bounced off the water in the basin. But I couldn't help checking again a few times after hastily grabbing the towel to dry my dripping face. Then I returned it back to its perch and ran down stairs, just a little spooked. My vivid imagination running away with me again.

The evening passed quickly. I tried to push the day's traumas to the back of my mind as I tackled the art history homework that was due tomorrow, but they came leaching though now and again anyway. I'd had this essay for two weeks, but as it was on the Bauhaus movement it didn't interest me enough to start it any sooner, and now with my determined frozen images of the day pushing there way back in, it didn't make it any easier. I pushed away from my bed and the desk that stood at the end of it and went to my open window, pulling the lace curtain out of the way, so it couldn't hinder the moving air that drifted past, and pushed the window wider, leaning out into the chilling night, welcoming the cool breeze, hoping it would clear my head.

I finished the paper, probably not as detailed as was required, but it had to be done and I did the best I could manage, under the circumstances. I threw my books and file on the floor, making a loud thud as they landed, the desk looking like it would collapse under the weight if any more was added to it's already heavy load. The deep sound made me jump, I froze listening for any other signs of life. There were none, everyone else was already asleep. I turned off the rooms light, climbed into bed, not pulling the covers too high, it was so hot there was no point. I brought my hands up behind my head looking at the fluorescent starts I stuck to the ceiling the first week I'd lived here, tiredness no where in sight. The moons light turned everything into a monochrome palette of colour, but I felt surprisingly alert. I enjoyed sleeping, and it usually came easily. Probably my nap earlier depriving me of the tiredness I waited for, I though to myself.

The frozen imaged drifted back into my mind, though the thought of my lost work disturbed me, it did not devastate me as it did upon hearing it for the first time. It was the pleasure the three 'Babies' had gotten out of it that disturbed me more. My jaw clenched as I remembered their laughter. Laughter at my pain. How could anyone be so cruel? I couldn't imagine doing that to my worst enemy. Not that I had enemies. Not that I'd done anything to warrant enemies. Had I?

I pushed my thoughts on. Then his eyes came into view, close, filling my perspective. A thrill of excitement stirred in my chest, like little butterflies fluttering inside me. It was quite irrational, to be so moved by a thought, but the rush sent a cool trickle down my spine as my breath caught in the back of my throat. I couldn't see anything else. The eyes tightened, the light dancing off the mesmerizing tanzanite pools of blue, so intense, so real, I wanted to reach out and touch them. I gazed at them in my mind, transfixed, unwilling to look away. It felt like being hypnotised, under their spell. Then as the moments passed I tried to refocus, to see the rest of his face. To see the whole of it. I concentrated, but there was nothing else but his eyes. Then a sharp, blood chilling scream. His head turned taking his eyes away instantaneously to the sound, his movement still not giving me anymore information. As he moved his head it was as if it had been an illusion. He faded into a smoky mist and disappeared. I gasped, I could feel my gaze widen. She, the woman from last nights dream, and so many other dreams was there in front of me. In the same final pose I saw her last night. Still screaming, hand stretched out towards me. She stopped abruptly, confusion on her face, as she caught sight of mine.

'Matilda! Tilley!'

My eyes flashed open.

'Tilley!' Emily was stood next to me, her hand on my arm shaking me lightly. I stared at her face feeling a little shocked from my pillow.

'Mum says it's time to get up.'

I took a moment to answer, not sure if this was a dream or reality. 'Yeah, Ok.' The words sounded wary.

She turned and slipped out the door, thudding on each step as she went down the stairs. I sat up rubbing my forehead with my hot clammy hand. I didn't know where the thinking had ended and the nightmare had begun, but I was glad it was over, but a little upset his eyes were gone. How masochistic was that!

I washed and dressed, grabbing my jeans and a top that was stuck out from under my bed. Must tidy that up, I thought to myself, then forgot it almost as quickly. I trudged down stairs, last night essay in hand.

Breakfast was the usual scene. I eat breakfast this morning, whilst talking to Maggie about the ruined painting, but didn't tell her about my near brush with death, or the hero that had saved me.

Emily sat chewing her cereal – marvelling, taking in every word like I was recounting a soap opera. Whilst Bill sat in silence again drinking his coffee and reading the paper, looking up every now and then, secretly watching me as I spoke. I saw him, but I didn't let him know.

'Do you think you'll be able to save it?' Maggie asked pouring orange juice into a glass in front of Emily.

'I don't know. I've not seen the damage yet.' I said shrugging my shoulders.

'I'm sure it will be fine.' She tried to convince me - forever the optimist.

I nodded, 'You're probably right.' I tried to sound convincing, but I don't think it worked, on me at least. I was starting to imagine various scenarios, the worst of which was that the painting was fine, and I'd have to continue the tortuous process of finishing it. I'd realised last night that this could be a blessing in discuses, a little bit of, dare I say it, luck!

Anna arrived and we left, her mum driving us again. Pulling up in front of the large glass entrance doors to the college, Anna and I got out of the car. I turned to give Anna my usually, 'See you later' but she grabbed my arm, looping hers through mine, and looking very determined.

'I'm coming with you - moral support.' She informed me, a serious look on her face.

'You really don't have to,' I interjected. 'I'll be fine.'

She didn't say anything; she just dragged me towards the doors, pulling it open and guiding me through. I sighed quietly, and she eyed my expression with a look of discern on her face. It told me wasn't fooling anyone today; because secretly I was totally relieved she stayed.

I took a deep breath as we got to the second door way, the one into my studio.

The room was busy with other students. I wasn't as early as yesterday.

I noticed straight away my desk was all moved about, nothing in its original place, most of everything pushed to one side. The glass that had had the brushes and knife in it was no longer there, but you could see where it must have tipped, and part of the old wooded desk had turned a milky white. I turned my attention to the easels. My eyes quickly falling on Anna for encouragement, as she stood next to me by my desk. She raised her one eyes brow and weekly smiled. I exhaled, walking around to the other side to where the easels stood, upright with the covered canvas on top. I put my hand out to pull the grey, paint stained cloth that covered the painting. With a little gulp of bile that rose in my throat, I pulled at the cloth. It slide off the canvas and landed in a heap on the floor.

My eyes widened, my mouth hung open.

Anna gasped lightly and quickly her head turning to see my expression from where she stood, still at my side.

I closed my mouth again, and nodding my head back and forth.

'OK,' I stopped nodding, it was as horrible as I'd imagined, in the best way.

The once colourful canvas was now a mix of jumbled colours, also grit, dirt, dust and a leaf from somewhere, all intermingled, and that was the good part. Half way down it was like someone had got my knife and taken the drying colour of by shear force.

'Can you do anything with it?' Anna whispered, aware that most of the room was watching us now.

I exhaled deeply. 'I can scrape it of and start again.' I said a little sarcasm in my voice.

'Oh!' is all she said.

I shook my head, 'It wasn't very good really. It's a chance for me to start again, to make it better.'

'You're taking this very well.' Anna sounded surprised, but cautious.

'When someone gives you lemon…..' I trailed off.

'…make lemonade and add some vodka!' Anna added, a snigger in her voice.

We both looked at each other and laughed.

A voice came from behind us, 'Then run off and causes a major pile up.' The acidic voice was unmistakable.

Anna and I both glanced over our shoulders; Rachel was just behind us, her expression as acidic as her voice, her arms folded over her chest, clad from head to toe in a dusky pink.

Robert walked into the room at the same time.

'That's enough. Thank you Miss Pullen, back to your work.'

Robert was one of my lectures, well kind of a mature volunteer helper. He was in the final year of his teaching degree, transferred from another college in the North, and came to help more often than he was in his own classes. He was one of the friendly ones and at the beginning a bit too friendly. He walked over to us as Rachel returned to her work. He was mid to late twenties, tall, well built - in the right kind of way. Always wore Oakley shaded, always wore black and good looking - if that's your thing - and it was Anna's.

She blushed.

He noticed.

'You'll be late for your class.' He directed his words to Anna, with an amused smile.

She blushed a little more. 'I was just leaving.' She smiled to me, a silly girly smile and disappeared out the door. Roberts shaded eyes watched her go.

He came to stand next to me as I turned back to continue taking in the full extent of the damage.

'I'm so sorry this happened Tilley.' He said with sincerity in his voice, his shaggy dusty blond hair falling over one of his lenses. 'Rachel said it was an accident, but she couldn't explain why she was over here. I will be watching her; this isn't the first time something like this has happened recently. Any problems let me know, OK.'

I nodded and quickly smiled letting it fall from my lips just as quick.

'OK.'

He nodded once stiffly, turned and left the room. I watched him go, catching Rachel's eye as he walked past her desk. I stared at her until she looked away.

The first section of the day moved slowly. After cleaning up the devastation of my work space and rearranging everything back into its usual place, I sat at my desk with my sketch pad open, trying to keep to the original theme, but looking for more insight before I started again. The theme was loosely based around Kimlts painting: 'The Kiss.' An almost mosaic like painting, in the style of Art Nouveau. A romantic embrace of two lovers. A stolen moment. A powerful image. Gold was the main colour to the painting, with various other bright colours, green, blue, red, making up the mosaic quality. It was no good though. I couldn't get a handle on a new direction, the edge I wanted was lacking. I held my head in my hands and shook it from side to side, feeling just a little defeated. I gathered my things together and decided to continue this away from prying eyes that drifted away every time I looked in Rachel's direction. Maybe looking through some reference books would spark something off; it couldn't hurt at this point.

I shuffled out of the room noticing Rachel as I left. This time she didn't look up.

The library was a familiar place. Too warm in the heat of another scorching day, but it was quite and empty in comparison to other days. The books smelt good too! Musty, old, permanent. I threw my bag down on a table and walked over to the stacks that housed the art history section. It was long and towards the end, quite dark. Only a small high window offering any good light to the small desks beyond, that lined the wall at the very end. I started pulling books out, thumbing through, some times keeping one or two, replacing other back on the shelf. I continue doing this shelf by shelf, and as it became impossible to carry any more I decided to take what I had back to the table.

I must have been there about and hour or more, making notes, scribbling drawing, photocopying a few inspirational pictures, when the library slowly began to get steadily busier. Lunch time had arrived and I hadn't even noticed, my stomach not informing me in its usual way, I had been so engrossed. My eyes flicked up as the low murmur increases in volume. People milled around, chatting and talking excitedly. The librarian that sat at the main desk, shushing people as they went by. I began to tidy my things away, stacking a large pile of books to return to the section I had ransacked. I walked back down the still quiet book stacks nearly to the end, and replaced books, probably not in the correct places, as I went. Nearing the darkened end a sound caught my attention. I looked up towards the sound with a start. Right down at the very end of the stacks, stood where the tall bookcases ended and just before the desks begun, where it was the darkest, I could just make out a figure of a person. They stood, facing in my direction I thought, silhouetted by the light that fell from the high window. I squinted trying to see a little clearer, craning my neck forward. The figure seemed to be hooded, and the way their arms where pushed out made it look like they had their hands pushed into their pockets, but I couldn't be sure, and surely it was too hot for a hood?

The quietness around me suddenly seemed strangely eerie.

'Hello' I called.

They didn't move. They didn't say anything.

'Are you OK?' I said still straining to see a little more, my heart starting to pound just a little.

Again, nothing.

I took a slow step closer.

They turned and quickly walked around the end of the stack, disappearing from view. I jogged down to the end,a little spooked, but also a little shocked. My heart accelerated. When I got there, there was no sign of a hooded figure. I walked on past the other stacks checking down each one, and then out into the main floor. I quickly scanned the room, and my eyes swept to the exit door. Nothing, out of the ordinary that is. Other students sat at table just a bit further over, not reacting to or noticing my anxious expression, everyone in t-shirts and strappy tops. No hoodies raised or other wise in sight. My heart still pumping loudly behind my ears, as the nervous trembles of my hands subsided.

I returned to my desk via the bright side of the stacks, picked up my things, leaving the remainders of the books on the desk, and went to find Anna, warily looking around the room as I left.

My near death experience had been a hot topic today. I'd been stared at and pointed at, and now again as I walked through the short, glass sided connecting corridor that linked the art department to the main body of the college. I even stopped whispered conversation as I walked through the next corridor. Fresh gossip must be slow today!

As I reached Anna, lingering in the doorway of her psychology class, I could hear her loudly recounting her version of events. As she saw me approach she turned her body to face me with her left arm outstretched towards me saying,

'And here she is, the girl who could not be killed.' A huge smile on her face, as if she was introducing me onto a talk show.

I smiled rolling my eyes, stopping at her side. She put her outstretched arm around my shoulders, hugging me so tightly I nearly toppled over onto her.

A low snigger coming from her class mates that stood quietly watching Anna performance.

'Well, gotta go.' She announced pulling me through the gathering in the direction of the canteen. Her classmates parting as we marched through. Anna could be a bit of a queen bee herself, but she always used it in a nice way, not using it at the expense of others, unlike other 'pink' girls I could mention

Her arm still firmly around my shoulders she dragged me to the line of people waiting to find out what 'food' was on the menu today.

'How did it go, did you make lemonade?' A dry smile smoothed across her face.

I pulled my hair back, tucking it behind my right ear, and shrugged, 'No lemonade yet, still choosing the lemons.' I laughed one quite laugh; 'ha!' still feeling uneasy about events in the library and scanning the room, as if I would pick out the darkened figure from the sea of faces in front of me.

'You've got plenty of time though, right?'

'Until the end of the term. About ten weeks.' I sighed.

'Plenty of time', she encouraged. 'I know you'll do it.' She squeezed my shoulder.

I raised one eye brow. She didn't know my process. I hadn't really decided what I was doing with the old painting; let alone starting from scratch again. 'Oh well.' I thought to myself, 'if worst came to worst I'd go back to the original plan, and wing it as best I could.

'Thanks'. I offered, if only to make her feel better.

After lunch I had art history in the main building of the college, in one of the large auditoriums. The chairs spread out in rows that rose up higher the closer you got to the back of the room. A large interactive white board took up a lot of the front wall, were the lecturer stood as we filtered into the stuffy room. I gave in my assignment that I'd rescued from the bedroom floor. The lecture moved swiftly, despite the uncomfortable thick air of the room. To my delight we covered Klimt's painting of The Kiss, as well as other relevant artists work, Auguste Rodin, and his 'Kiss' sculpture, another favorite of mine. It's twining hard bodies that looked as soft as freshly fallen snow, a passionate embrace, trapped in time to kiss for eternity. Also one that I had not heard of before, a contemporary piece of work by Tsang Cheung-Shing called 'A Coffee-Kiss'. Two coffee faces kissing, created from the two spilt coffee cups that hung in the air.

'Brilliant - kissing and coffee, the perfect combination!' someone whispered behind me, but I had nothing to compare it to. I could identify with the coffee, but the kissing... The closest thing I'd ever come to kissing a boy was Mark Smith in the first grade, and that was a peck on the cheek, so that really didn't count.

The lecture drew to a close. My afternoon was over.

Anna had a late finish today. She had another two hours before her classes ended. So I decided to catch a bus into town and go to the gallery. Cram in as much information as I could, reduces my process time, so hopefully work could start sooner.

The bus was crowded, but luckily I'd managed to get a seat by the door. Kids piled on pushing their way to the back. I had to duck a few times to stop from being hit in the face with a bag or back pack as the owners squashed into the already too full bus. The doors closed and the bus lurched forward. It was hot again today - sticky. A warm breezed filled the enclosed space from the small open windows, bringing little relief. As I sat in my seat, feeling a little claustrophobic, bodies crammed into every bit of space in the isles. A strange sensation washed over me. Like someone was at my neck. Their warm breath touching the back of my ear. Eyes boring into the back of my prickling head. I turned, first looking at the girl who sat just feet behind me. She was talking wildly to her companion, who looked just as engrossed, hand gesturing furiously - not her, she was too busy to pay me any attention. My eyes moved past her, searching all the faces I could see. Most of whom where wearing sun glasses, so that made any investigation pointless, and none with their hoods drawn up over their heads. I turned shaking my head internally.

'I'm really loosing it!' I spoke to myself. 'What a freak!'

The bus pulled to the outskirts of the town's main shopping centre. A few more stops and it would be my stop. I tapped my finger next to the bell, waiting impatiently; eager to get of the sticky bus, the prickly seat fabric now starting to itch my sweaty back. At last I rang the bell, the bus gently pulled to a stop as I pushed my way through the few bodies that stood in front of the door.

On the street the temperature was no better. The Central Gallery of Contemporary Art and Museum, 'the jewel of the south-east', or so the web site had informed me the first time I'd looked at it, wasn't far. I arrived at the stone steps that lead up to the galleries entrance, and glanced around behind me again. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, but there was no-one in sight. This end of town not the most popular with students looking for the bars or clothe stores that where all located at the other end. As I walked through the huge wooden panelled doors of the Edwardian style building, a great wave of cool conditioned air swept around my exposed skin sending welcoming goose bumps where ever it touched.

'Um.' I exhaled, the attendant smirking at my obvious relief.

I blushed a little, and continued along the large bright entrance foyer. The gallery was starting to feel familiar; I'd been here so often since I come to live in my new town. This time of day was a great time to come, most people still in work and no children running about because they where in school. The building would be quite, empty apart from a few tourists and die hard's who where always here.

Across the cavernous foyer, with its gleaming white tiled floor, that seamed to bounce the smallest shaft of light from the high off windows back up towards the vaulted ceiling, in so many different directions, it seemed bright on the dullest of days, was the glass show cases full of Clarice Cliff and Art Deco jewellery that lined the opposite wall. My eager eyes switched to the spectacularly beautiful marble staircase that stood beside one of the two milky white male sculptures, that where positioned either end of the long inertia. At the top of the elegant stairs began the first of the expansive gallery spaces. A few pieces of small notoriety belonged to the collection, but these where of no relevance today. I was here to see a visitor. A visitor that had been here for about two months and wouldn't be staying for much longer. A small group of oil painting from the Wallace collection in London has been on a short lone to the Gallery, one of the most exciting things I'd experience since living in this unexciting town. Each gallery had three walls on the right and three walls on the left, with the central wall of each twice the size of the ones on each side. An entrance and exit dividing the two sections, a brown leather bench seeming to float in the centre, killing the feng shui, but I don't suppose those rules where being followed here.

I sat down on the cold fabric of the bench, it raising a reoccurrence of goose bumps on my legs. The cool leather was pleasant, but I rubbed at my jeans in response. With my hand pressed into the expanse of seat behind me I lent back to study the large oil painting in front of me. Two lovers, their bodies entwined in their eternal, heartbreaking embrace. 'Francesca da Rimini', by Ary Scheffer read the glinting brass plaque at the side of the frame. Or 'The Ghosts of Paolo & Francesca appear to Dante and Virgil' as I now knew it. Not the happiest of stories, but a passionate one. Francesca's arm effortlessly holding Paolo, the billowing fabric draped around their naked bodies as they swirl in the whirlwind together. Of cause, I was romanticising it. There eternal doom in the second circle of hell wasn't appealing to me, or a theme for my work, but I could imagine more unappealing ways to spend eternity. I loved this piece. It evoked strong feelings, I felt breathless at the mere sight of it. I could sit and marvel over its splendour for hours. I'd found it after I'd decided on Klimt's painting as a basis for my own, now sabotaged work. But this was truly magnificent. I sat gazing at it, my hungry eyes pouring over every brush stroke, every subtle change in colour, the lover's faces, their lips, their eyes.

Then a shudder raced down my back. I flinched, goose bumps again not only over my legs but my arms too, and a sense of….. being watched.

Rubbing my arm I looked around swinging my head first this way, them that way. No one was there. No one was watching me. I hung my head and exhaled, but then a tiny squeak from the polished floor.

My head spun around. A figure that had not been there just a second before hurried away from the entrance. A hooded figure.

Confused for a moment I stared. Then it hit me, was it the figure from the library this morning? From what I could remember and what I had seen the proportions where similar. Ok, I couldn't be positive, but they where close enough that it made my pulse quicken.

I found myself rushing now from where I sat towards the fleeing figure. Over their shoulder they momentarily looked back, probably because of my heavy feet jogging after them. But they where hooded, just like before, but I couldn't make out the face.

'Excuse me.' I said my voice steady, but not a shout.

They quickly looked around again, but started walk faster.

'Excuse me,' I said again, but a bit louder, panic and anger starting to fill my tone, 'Hey you!' now I was shouting. My jog broke into a run.

So did the figures.

The figure reached the stairs, running down them as they went. I got to the stairs as the figure got half way down hitting the landing with a jump from two steps up. But I was gaining. As we ran, people started to notice, turning to the sound of the echoing noise from our feet on the highly polished marble steps as I too made the landing. The figure made the bottom step and ran for the door.

'Who are you' I shouted, furious now.

I reached the bottom step. As I did the figure turned to look over their shoulder for the last time. As they turned, their piecing blue eyes flashed, catching my attention. The same piecing blue eyes that had saved me at the diner yesterday? I couldn't be sure, but they where intense, not like any blue eyes I'd seen before.

I gasped, hesitated; my feet got all tangled up.

Loosing my balance, I twisted on my ankle as I plummeted down the remaining step and onto the floor beyond.

He continued running for the door.

I landed in a heap, panting for breath, the fall knocking the wind out of me. I pushed at the floor willing myself to stand. The slippery tiles wouldn't let me, as my feet gave way before I could even get them underneath me. Pushing on my arms, my upper body rose, staring in the direction I'd seen him only moments before, just in time to see the large heavy wooden door slowly swinging shut.

16

Chapter 2